


Doing the Asking

by significantowl



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Christmas Eve, F/M, Marriage Proposal, POV Elektra Natchios, POV Foggy Nelson, POV Sister Maggie, Post-Season/Series 03, Set Vaguely In The Future, meet the parents, popping the question
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-16
Updated: 2019-02-17
Packaged: 2019-10-29 22:09:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17816423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/significantowl/pseuds/significantowl
Summary: Before Elektra proposes to Matthew, she pays a few other people a visit.There's really no hurry. This moment is precious; she wants to capture it, crystalline, and keep it ever after. This is Matthew before she asks the question - before he even suspects a question is coming.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Begun for the 12 Days of Mattelektra at tumblr; finished for the Mattelektra Valentine's Weekend celebration. Chapter 1 written for the prompt “when we’re married” (it sorta fits), and for fadedtoblue, who when I was in need of inspiration suggested Elektra and Maggie meeting / Elektra asking Maggie’s permission to propose (which this also sorta but not 100% fits).

Maggie had never seen a picture of the woman. Of course she hadn’t; why would Matthew bother with such a thing? Perhaps one had been on display at the memorial service Father Lantom conducted a year ago, but Maggie hadn’t been in attendance. It had been the holiday season, and she’d been busy elsewhere. Always so busy. The day this city ran out of people who needed help would be the day it crumbled into dust.

But after God had dumped the devil in her lap, and Paul, when pressed, had lent context to the things Matthew muttered in his delirium, there can be no doubt in Maggie’s mind as to whom she’s facing now. Who else could it be, standing silently in the center of the church laundry room on a cold, cold morning, before dawn even cracked the sky?

“Elektra, is it?”

The woman nods, glossy hair spilling over the blood-red lapels of her elegantly tailored black coat. “Sister.”

“Early Mass is upstairs in the sanctuary,” Maggie offers, just to see what reaction she’ll receive.

“Hm. Some other time. I have plans today.” Elektra’s gaze sweeps around the room. If Maggie were a betting woman, which of course she isn’t, she’d say that Elektra had been here before, and already acquainted herself with every trace of Matthew still remaining after his convalescence. “I’m asking Matthew to marry me.”

“Ah. I see.” She takes a breath. “Are you here to enquire as to when the church might be free? Sister Catherine is in charge of the calendar. I’m afraid office hours haven’t begun just yet.”

Her lips quirk. Maggie thinks she’s genuinely amused. “No.”

“But you do intend on a church wedding,” Maggie says sharply, and knows it doesn’t sound as if she’s simply concerned for the spiritual welfare of a member of the flock. Her far more human concern is bleeding through.

“Of course. Matthew will want one. And I,” Elektra lifts her chin, “I would pledge myself to him anywhere.”

Oh. Oh. She knew her son ran hot, had fire straight down to his core, but now she knows this girl is every bit his equal in fire and flame. That wasn’t just a sentence; it was a lightning strike. Steadily, Maggie says, “Matthew has never needed my permission for anything.”

“I know. But he craves approval.”

It’s both the truth and a subtle, well-placed blow. But Maggie happens to know a little bit herself about taking punches, and she lets out a deliberate breath while allowing her eyes to sweep Elektra from head to toe.

This is what she knows: this woman left, yes, but came back again and again; by all reports, even death could not keep her away. That was a woman Matthew needed. That was a woman he deserved.

“He’ll have mine,” Maggie says. As a token of faith, she smiles. “I look forward to congratulating him tonight, after Midnight Mass.”

An answering smile graces Elektra’s lips. “Thank you, Sister. We’ll see each other soon, I’m sure,” she says, then leaves swiftly and silently, like the beautiful ghost she is.

Turning back to her laundry - busy, busy, always busy - Maggie lifts her eyes heavenward. “You’ve given me a devil and a ghost,” she says. “What on earth will my grandchildren be?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the 12 Days of Mattelektra prompt "gold rings".

Brunch is delicious, even if Foggy is almost too unsettled to eat. _Almost_ being the operative word; he is a Nelson, after all. He enjoys salmon Benedict, candied maple bacon, and A+ cranberry mimosas (‘tis the season for holiday-themed day drinking); the only ingredient at the table that feels out of place is the fear.

That fear is personified in the form of a slight, stunning woman in a deep red cashmere sweater with viciously glossy nails to match. Maybe the red wouldn’t be quite as threatening if Foggy didn’t happen to know how many people she’d killed. Maybe Foggy’s still a little justifiably rattled by finding Elektra Natchios at his door before his morning coffee even finished brewing.

Had he ever given her his address? Hell to the no.

“Well, this has certainly been an unexpected treat!” Foggy says brightly, folding his napkin. “Emphasis on _unexpected_. But I have some last-minute Christmas Eve shopping to do, so -”

“Of course.” Delicately, Elektra drains her mimosa, then tosses a small box across the table at Foggy. He jumps. He definitely _doesn’t_ squeak. On the one hand, he’s glad this is happening in public - always good to have a few witnesses - on the other, what does it matter if he’s in a crowded restaurant, this is a ninja queen he’s dealing with, stealth is the name of her game.

She probably doesn’t want him dead, because that would make Matt sad-face at her for the rest of her unnatural life. Foggy comforts himself with that thought before cracking the lid.

A heavy gold band sits nestled on a bed of black velvet. “Elektra, you’re - reportedly a better woman than previous evidence suggests, but - I’m not gonna marry you.”

She rolls her eyes. On her, it somehow looks incredibly elegant. “I’m not asking for your hand in marriage, Franklin,” Elektra says very, very slowly. “I want to know if you’ll serve as a witness.”

“To what? Are you and Matt getting married?”

“Perhaps.”

“You mean nobody’s done any asking yet?”

Elektra sighs, patient as she would be with a two-year-old - which, Foggy suspects, is not very. “I’ve asked _you_ about being a witness.”

Her gaze is unwavering. It’s as intimidating, as per always, but Foggy is suddenly immune. If Elektra is here, asking Foggy that question before even showing Matt the ring… then yes. She’s a better woman than he’s been giving her credit for. One who truly cares about Matt more than he ever imagined.

“Want to know what I’m doing right now?” Foggy asks.

“Please.” Elektra gestures gracefully.

“I’m imagining just how big and how hard Matt’s gonna be smiling when you meet him at the altar,” Foggy says. And he really is, and God, is it something to see. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

From the smile that steals over Elektra’s face, shockingly soft and sweet, Foggy knows she’s imagining it too.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the Mattelektra Valentine's Weekend prompt "Marry Me".

She'd known he was tired. When Elektra had slipped from Matthew’s bed in the cold, gray hour just before dawn, he'd barely stirred - a little mumble, a slight twitch of his hands against the covers, that was all. It pleased Elektra to see his unconscious mind so unconcerned with her departure. It settled something deep inside.

Matthew trusted her to come back.

Now, hours later, he’s still sleeping when Elektra enters the bedroom. Some people wouldn’t think twice about waking Matthew from such a sound sleep - those people were idiots. Some, rather more intelligently, wouldn’t even try for fear of a powerful fist to the face. He's developed even more of a hair-trigger since being buried under earth and rock; he isn't the only one. For Elektra, awakening from the dead has made awakening in general a more fraught prospect than ever before.

Perching on the edge of the bed, Elektra reaches out, skimming her hand gently up his spine before caressing the curve of his cheek. When Matthew hums, sleepy-soft, she leans down to kiss his forehead.

“Mmf. Mornin’,” he mumbles, reaching for Elektra's hand. He nuzzles it a little, then presses a kiss to her palm in return.

“I wore you out, it seems,” she says with some satisfaction. Oh, the ten guys they’d fought down by the docks last night probably had something to do with it, too, but the workout they’d given each other on his sofa afterwards had been vigorous indeed.

“Mm. Guess so.” Matthew stretches prettily - shame it's been cold enough for him to actually wear a shirt to sleep in - and Elektra waits, a smile tugging at her lips, for alertness to finally come creeping in.

There's really no hurry. This moment is precious; she wants to capture it, crystalline, and keep it ever after. This is Matthew before she asks the question - before he even suspects a question is coming. 

If she didn’t believe it would bring him happiness, Elektra would not, _could not_ , ask. Years ago, _lives_ ago, she’d convinced herself that Matthew would welcome stepping into blood and darkness with her: a delusion that left her standing alone. But this is no delusion. She can scarcely believe it, but it’s true: despite the rocky roads they’ve traveled, it brings him joy to walk by her side.

The morning fog clears from Matthew’s face. Rising up on his elbows, he tips his head to one side. “You've been busy this morning,” he says.

“Have I?”

“Yes.” A frown creases his forehead; his confusion is adorable. “You went to church.”

“Oh? Do I smell like God?”

Matthew’s lips quirk. “Incense,” he says, “and bleach. You went to see Sister Maggie?

“Very good,” Elektra says approvingly. “Yes. I had a question for her.” 

It’s _fun_ , this game, trying to keep from giving herself away too quickly. Keeping her breath and tone of voice under tight control. Matthew’s smiling a little more widely now: he knows that she’s playing.

“Do I get to know what it was?” 

Technically she hadn’t _asked_ Maggie anything, but she’d needed to know something, and she’d gotten an answer, and that was close enough. “Let me think…. Maybe.”

Matthew changes tack swiftly, as if she’s a witness on the stand. He sits up, crossing his legs. “You went to see Foggy. Did you have a question for him, too?”

“As it happens, I did.” Taking his hand, Elektra and folds his calloused fingers against her palm. “Darling, do you really want to hear about questions I’ve asked other people, or would you like to hear the one I’ve been saving for you?”

“Oh,” he says quietly, wonder breaking across his face. Elektra’s heart clenches. Such a smart man, her Matthew, and so talented at piecing together pictures from the smallest of hints, yet part of him is still surprised.

It shouldn't be that way. This should come as his due.

“This city is terrible,” Elektra begins. “It's filthy, and it's freezing in the winter, and it smells like a sewer pit in the summer. But I love being here with you.” She pauses, just to take it all in: his rumpled hair, his stubbly chin, his too-cold apartment, the unceasing rumble of traffic outside his window. “I love you. I want to marry you.”

“You -” Slowly, delight overtakes wonder, until his entire expression is alight. “You mean it. Elektra -”

Matthew craves commitment deep in his soul, like a flower craves the sun. Once, she'd used that as ammunition in a subtle assault; _when we’re married_ , she'd said, and without being able to hear his heart leap, she’d known precisely how hard it had. 

Once, but never again. From the moment Elektra came screaming back to life, her soul has wanted one thing. It's here, in this room.

“We have their blessing,” she says softly, and has to catch her breath when Matthew - when he _blooms_.

In a voice that's a little shaky and wet, her lawyer says, “You promised me a question. You haven't asked one yet.” 

“Oh, you’re sharp,” she teases gently. Elektra can’t help but draw out this moment too, etching it in her memory - his dear face, her hopeful heart. She strokes his wrist with her thumb, right at the pulse point, and says, “Will you marry me?”

“Of course,” he says, simple and steady. His certainty is like wine, darker and richer than the champagne in her mimosa that morning; kneeling on the bed, Elektra kisses him fiercely, drinking it from his lips.

~

If he doesn't love the ring she bought him, they’ll take back. But Elektra thinks he will: it's beautifully smooth, and nicely solid - Matthew will like that, for the symbol of their promises to each other to have weight, and heft. 

As for herself, Elektra looks forward to buying a diamond. She's happy to buy diamonds any time, quite frankly, but she wants to pick this one out with Matthew. Let him choose a setting that feels interesting to his touch, and a ring that feels right nestled against his fingers when he slides his hand into hers.

Where it belongs.

**Author's Note:**

> still [tumbling](http://significantowl.tumblr.com)!


End file.
